Part 9 (1/2)

Two horses fell, sent down by the first two bullets from the pistols of the boy at bay.

But Frank found he could not shoot horses and save himself, for dark forms were pressing upon him, and he must fall into the clutches of the bandits in another moment unless he resorted to the most desperate measures.

”If you will have it, then you shall!” he muttered, through his set teeth, turning his aim on the human forms.

Spouts of red fire shot from the muzzles of the revolvers, and the cracking of the weapons was followed by cries and groans.

Through a smoky haze Frank saw some of the dark figures fling up their arms and topple to the ground within a few feet of him.

He wondered what had become of Hans and the professor, for he could see nothing of either, and they had been close at hand a moment before.

In the midst of all this, Frank wondered at his own calmness. His one thought was that not a bullet should be wasted, and then he feared he would find his weapons empty and useless before the desperadoes were rebuffed.

But this reception was something the bandits had not expected from a boy. They had no heart to stand up before a lad who could shoot with the skill of a Gringo cowboy, and did not seem at all excited when attacked by twenty men.

Mexican half-bloods are cowards at heart, and, by the time they saw two or three of their number fall before the fire from Frank's revolvers they turned and took to their heels like a flock of frightened sheep.

”Say, holdt on avile und led me ged a few pullets indo you, mein friendts.”

It was Hans' voice, and, looking down, Frank saw the Dutch lad on the ground at his feet, whither he had crept on hands and knees.

”What are you down there for, Hans?”

”Vot you d.i.n.k, Vrankie? You don'd subbose I sdood up all der dime und ged in der vay der pullets uf? Vell, you may oxcuse me! I don'd like to peen a deat man alretty yet.”

”That's all right, Hans. I admire your judgment.”

”Dank you, Vrankie. I admire der vay you vork dose revolfers. Dot peat der pand, und don'd you vorged him!”

At this moment, a horse with a double burden swept past in the flare of light.

”Help! Frank--Frank Merriwell! Help--save me!”

”Merciful goodness!” cried Frank. ”It is the professor's voice!”

”Und he vos on dot horse!”

”Yes--a captive!”

”Dot's vat he vos!”

”Our own horses--where are they? We must pursue! What have become of our horses?”

”Dose pandits haf dooken them, I susbect.”

This was true; Frank had killed two of the horses belonging to the bandits, but the desperadoes had escaped with the three animals hired by our friends.

But that was not the worst, for Professor Scotch had been captured and carried away by the bold ruffians.

Frank heard the professor's appeals for help, and heard a mocking, cold-blooded laugh that he knew came from the lips of Carlos Merriwell.